Break The Clinch, Fellas
by PutMoneyInThyPurse
Summary: Conversations between the guys and the authors, mainly the latter telling the former to tone down the overt affection to 1960s TV-safe levels. Gen so far, & likely sheer crack. First in a series. Open to requests - God knows they elided enough h/c.
1. 1: Michael Zagor, A Room With A Rack

Small explanation before I start these.

I've always had a strong desire for tactile h/c in my television viewing, and was always PO'ed that Kelly and Scotty didn't comfort each other with touch more, even though they clearly adore each other. A pal of mine pointed out to me that in the 1960s, it would have been considered emasculating for them to break down in each other's arms the way, say, Starsky and Hutch did in the 1970s. So in an email to another friend, I jotted down a conversation between Michael Zagor, the writer of_ Room with a Rack,_ and Kelly & Scotty - I liked it, so it looks like it'll become a series. (I always like the fourth-wall-breaking-characters-talk-to-the-author thing. And I really like the idea that the affection, occasional hugs, etc., we saw onscreen were just the tip of the iceberg.) Consider it crackfic, if you prefer... *blush*

* * *

Michael Zagor: Fellas, break the clinch, huh? I need to get this scene written!  
Scotty: _(sitting on Kelly's hospital bed, holding Kelly) _So write it already!  
Michael Zagor: TV audiences won't accept two men hugging like that! This is the Sixties!  
Kelly: _(still shaky) _The man has a point.  
Scotty: _(arms still firmly round Kelly) _Point, shmoint. _(To Zagor) _Cat's just had a nightmare! He's traumatized-  
Kelly: _(weak but indignant) _I am not-  
Scotty:...traumatized, thanks to what _you _put him through in the first five seconds of the episode! Anybody would think audiences _liked _watching Kel get whipped on!  
Michael Zagor: Well, now that you mention it-  
Kelly: *facepalm* ...Ow.  
Scotty: Don't listen to him, Fred C. He'll just make you bust your stitches. Raise your blood pressure, too. _(Rubs Kelly's solar plexus) _How ya doin'? Better?  
Kelly: _(resting his head on Scotty's shoulder) _Yeah. Man, the writer wants to get to work. I'm just holding things up, here. How about you go do a scene by yourself, and I'll just-  
Michael Zagor: That's an idea. Scotty, you can-  
Scotty: The both of you can just go take a flying leap, because if you think I'm leaving Kelly alone to flip out-  
Kelly: _(lifting his head off Scotty's shoulder) _Hey, I resent that! I do not fl-  
Scotty:-in the state he's in, well you got another think coming.  
Michael Zagor: But there's this scene where-  
Scotty: It can sure as fun _wait _till Kel's out of the hospital.  
Kelly: Oh, I can tell this episode is going to be a barrel of laughs. _(shudders suddenly)_  
Scotty: _(instantly concerned, leaning closer) _I knew he wasn't up to this yet.  
Michael Zagor: It's just the latent effects of-  
Scotty: _(lowering a trembling Kelly to the bed) _Shut up. _(softly) _Shh, Kel, 's over. He got done writing that stupid scene yesterday, you ain't going back there, nobody's going to hurt you again...  
Michael Zagor: _(sheepish)_ Well, uh, about that... now that you mention it...  
Scotty: Go jump in the lake. Listen, the day you put Kelly back on that rack is the day you get me dressed up like a Spanish conquistador!  
Michael Zagor: _(sheepish)_ Well, uh, about that... now that you mention it...  
Kelly: Lalalalala... I'm traumatized, I'm not here... This is not happening...


	2. 2: Robert Culp, Home to Judgment

CULP: What's going on here, fellas?  
(SCOTTY looks up from where he's seated leaning against a hay bale, KELLY propped up in a sitting position with his back against SCOTTY's chest, his legs bracketed by Scotty's, his head lolling back against Scotty's shoulder. Scotty's holding his jacket draped around Kelly with one hand, the other holding a wet cloth to Kelly's face in an attempt to get his fever down.  
SCOTTY: (not looking up from KELLY) _What?_  
CULP: Do you have any idea what the networks would say about the pair of you if I showed them this?  
SCOTTY: It was your idea to do this to him in the first place.  
CULP: He had to be driven to the end of his endurance-  
SCOTTY: And he's right there, thanks to you. Now what? Want me to pitch him out of the window into the field so the viewers can see how much of a man I am?  
KELLY: (weakly) I'm not a sack of flour, you know.  
SCOTTY: Coulda fooled me. Get some rest.  
KELLY: Been resting since we got here. Need to pull my weight.  
SCOTTY: Need to pull it into a _bed _is what you need, but since we don't _got _that since a certain writer wants to push you right over the lovin' cliff, we can at least...  
CULP: Scotty, that's enough fooling around. Just lay him down and we can...  
SCOTTY: We can _nuthin'. _Have you even felt how hot he is? He's burning up. If he gets brain-damaged or something from fever, how's that gonna help your little-  
KELLY: (squirming feebly) Ignore him. I'll get in place right away.  
SCOTTY: (tightening his hold on Kelly) That's what _you _think. (To CULP) I woulda thought you of all people would had a little more sympathy, seeing as you're the one whose body he uses and all.  
CULP: (wincing) Don't remind me. (Back to the present) But we really do have to get crackin'.  
SCOTTY: Crackin'. _Right._ Crack your head open is what I'll do, I've a notion to do it anyway, writer or no writer. Like it ain't enough you had him running all over the countryside with a stab wound, sleeping in a barn with a fever and an infection and Heaven knows what else, and his wrists oughta be taken care of-and that lousy, stinking shackle still hangin' off his bum leg - do you even have any idea how much pain that's giving him?  
KELLY: 'S what you get for bein' captured is all, an' I-  
SCOTTY: Quit that. (To CULP) See? See what you got us into? (To KELLY) Injury or no injury, keep talking like that and you're liable to get smacked in the mouth. (To CULP) He's been lower'n a snake's navel for days, and I don't even think a snake's _got _a navel. I'm the one who has to put up wi-  
KELLY: I'm s-  
SCOTTY: Don't you dare apologize. Wasn't talking to you.  
CULP: A dramatic hero needs to have inner pain-  
SCOTTY: (To CULP) Man,_ I'm _a dramatic hero! Give _me _some of it! Don't I rate? How come you're always whipping on Kel? What gives?  
KELLY: (pipes up weakly) It gives him dramatic scope.  
CULP: *blushes*  
SCOTTY: I get it. You're a great actor, no question there, but how's about you cut this cat a break?  
CULP: Uh... well...  
SCOTTY: Don't - do _not -_ tell me you're thinking of doing anything _else _to him.  
CULP: (hesitant) Just a bullet graze.  
SCOTTY: (deadly serious) Over my dead body.  
CULP: We need to establish the seriousness of this battle, the self-defense factor, that Kelly's aunt and uncle are in a situation where killing is unavoidable, because it's kill or be killed.  
KELLY: It coulda been avoided if we never went into the farm in the first place. (He gasps for breath. Scotty adjusts him so he's breathing more comfortably.) Make more sense to cut the dead weight. You could still do it. Scotty could just leave me under a tree or something and go in to HQ on his own.  
CULP AND SCOTTY: (in unison) Shut up.  
SCOTTY: There is no way in the world that you are putting a bullet in him on top of everything he's already been through.  
CULP: Just a graze?  
SCOTTY: No.  
KELLY: Don't I get a say in this?  
CULP AND SCOTTY: (in unison) No.  
SCOTTY: I'll take the graze, if you absolutely gotta write in a graze.  
KELLY: (jerks up) No!  
CULP: That's not a bad idea. I could work with that, actually...  
KELLY: No. (Struggling painfully to sit independently of Scotty) You can't do that. I'll take it.  
CULP: Kelly, what's the matter with you? You know he won't die, this is a weekly series!  
KELLY: It's... (He swallows hard.)  
SCOTTY: Easy. (SCOTTY raises a cracked bowl of water to KELLY's lips.) Get some of this in you. (KELLY raises a trembling hand to steady it, but can't manage. SCOTTY pulls KELLY's head closer, so KELLY's cheek is sandwiched between Scotty's cheek and his hand, then tilts the bowl, letting Kelly drink. SCOTTY speaks softly to him.) That's it. Slow and easy, attaboy. (KELLY finishes, dragging in a gasping breath. SCOTTY wipes his mouth tenderly. Exhausted by the small effort, KELLY lets his head fall back against SCOTTY's shoulder, eyes closed, filthy face pinched with pain and misery. SCOTTY strokes his hair, murmuring to him.) J-ust take it easy. Gonna be all right.  
CULP: If you two are quite finished...  
KELLY: (pushing through his debility) Don't.  
SCOTTY: Can it. (To CULP) All right?  
CULP: Yes, yes. (Scribbles in a notebook) Final scene... before the tag... and...  
KELLY: (urgently, opening his eyes) I can take it, I've fielded bullets before.  
SCOTTY: And every time was one time too many, wiseguy. (To CULP) What is it with us and bullets, anyway? We both got more holes in us than Swiss cheese.  
KELLY: C'mon, man, _please.  
_CULP: Kelly, it's just a graze, what the hell is the-  
KELLY: (at the end of his tether) I can't stand to see him hurt, all right? Happy now?  
(A long beat of silence. SCOTTY swallows.)  
SCOTTY: It's-mutual, man. No reason you should... get all the breaks.  
KELLY: _Breaks. _(He snorts.) When I'm the one down for the count, you handle it better.  
SCOTTY: Oh, yeah?  
KELLY: Well, yeah. You're... calm.  
SCOTTY: Calm, huh?  
KELLY: When you're - y'know, when it's you, I'm this close to falling to pieces. You - it doesn't hit you as hard.  
SCOTTY: Mm-hmm. And just where did you get _that _idea?  
KELLY: I just said. You're calm!  
SCOTTY: So maybe I'm good at hiding it, you ever think of that?  
KELLY: You sayin' I'm weak?  
SCOTTY: I'm saying maybe I have more at stake!  
KELLY: At stake, what the hell's that supposed to mean?  
SCOTTY: You know where I come from, Kel! I'm not jeopardizing the image of the Negro man just to let you know I ain't _really _the strong, silent type!  
(Beat. SCOTTY looks away.)  
KELLY: (instantly remorseful) Sorry. I didn't think.  
SCOTTY: (smiles, loving) So what else is new? (serious) I would rather... I don't know, man. I'd rather do any old thing than see you hurt again.  
KELLY: (slurring, surge of energy fading) Well, it's mutual. You_ said._ (Beat.) I'm sorry about...  
SCOTTY: (sighs) Yeah. Not your fault. Just the way things are.  
KELLY: (weak, but determined) Not for always.  
SCOTTY: (lowering KELLY's head back down to rest on his shoulder) Nope, not for always, you got that right. You wanna get some rest, pal, you look pretty beat. (He smoothes the damp rag over KELLY's face again. KELLY is racked with a full-body shudder.) Hush now. (SCOTTY folds one arm beneath KELLY's own, bringing it around to lay his open palm high up on KELLY's breastbone, patting him very, very gently, well away from the bandaged stab wound.) Hush. (He strokes KELLY's hair with the hand holding the cloth, soothing him through the tremors.)  
CULP: (rolls his eyes) I'm sure that ten or twenty years from now, this will all be OK to show on TV. For now, step away from the spy slowly.  
SCOTTY: Long as you _promise _about the shooting thing, man. Gonna take me a while to get him back on his feet as it is.  
(KELLY clearly doesn't like it, but the weakness has taken over, and his face closes down: he's too miserable to argue. SCOTTY strokes KELLY's hair again, looks accusingly back at CULP, then scoots backwards, lowering KELLY gently as he does.)  
SCOTTY: Not doing him any good to be lying on the hard floor.  
CULP: Can't be helped.  
(SCOTTY cups a hand around the back of KELLY's head, lowering him all the way to the floor and then opening his fingers to slide his hand out from underneath KELLY's head without causing even the smallest impact.)  
SCOTTY: Says you. (KELLY shivers violently. SCOTTY reaches for his jacket and drapes it over KELLY.)  
KELLY: ...so damned helpless...  
SCOTTY: (tucking the jacket around KELLY and leaning over him) You're sick. Sick and hurt and feeling crummy, so lighten up on yourself, huh? (He tilts the water bowl to tip some water out onto the rag, then lays it across KELLY's hot forehead.) Better?  
CULP: Um... Scotty... the jacket can stay, just don't tuck him in like a five-year-old, but that cold-compress thing is definitely out.  
SCOTTY: I should just leave him to his brain-damage in peace, is that it?  
CULP: Scotty, when we wanted to show you falling for a young lady, what did we do?  
SCOTTY: I don't know, and I ain't exactly free to think about young ladies at a time like this.  
CULP: (longsuffering) We showed you making a cold compress for her sore head. Compassion is a tricky thing. It's the closest...  
SCOTTY: Approximation to romantic love, I dig, I dig. So?  
KELLY: (clears his throat)  
SCOTTY: (realization dawning) No... no _way, _man! You... (Thinks some more.) So I ain't supposed to show ol' Kel here compassion 'cause he's - 'cause folks are gonna think he's my wife, or something?  
KELLY: Might think _you _were _my _wife. (Beat.) You have that reputation to think of. Of which... (his face crumples bitterly)...of which you spoke before.  
SCOTTY: (Frowning to see KELLY's unhappiness, he reaches out, cupping a hand round KELLY's face.) Not your doing. Cool it, man. Never your doing.  
CULP: He's right, Scotty. You know that.  
SCOTTY: (sitting back against the wall, folding his arms) All right. Have it your way. (To CULP) But the minute you cut away, I'm taking care of him. If the cat don't get some help, how d'you expect him to have the strength to make bombs and stuff later on in the episode?  
CULP: I wouldn't dream of anything else.  
SCOTTY: What do you mean, you wouldn't? He's hurting really bad, man. He's burning up with fever, I'm sure that stupid cut's infected. He's filthy dirty, he's miserable...  
CULP: I don't think you heard me, Scotty. I said, I wouldn't dream of you doing anything else _but _taking care of him, once we cut away.  
SCOTTY: Okay then. Hear that, Kel? He...  
(But Kelly has fallen into a light doze, sweating, face pinched.)  
SCOTTY: (drawing his knees up, looking worriedly over at KELLY) Okay, get cracking. Sooner you get done, sooner I can get him comfortable.  
(CULP looks at the pair fondly, shakes his head and starts clattering away on his typewriter.)


End file.
